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[metalica]

[ The post comes across with a name that, really, no one will recognise. It's one word, simple: ＡＤＬＥＲ. Thank goodness for the text option so he has no need to attempt to hide his voice or face; for now his name is enough. ]

Tell me about your world. Your wars. Your powers. Tell me about the things that you fight for, what you continue to cherish even here.

Educate me.

Comments

text; private.

[noirant]

[ To suffer is to understand. Easier to claim than to countenance, but for the time being, he’s willing to take this conversation for a certain degree of face value. There are some things that it does no one well to doubt; and certainly, she answers as one truthfully-spoken. ]

And what would you dare for that truth?

text; private.

[metalica]

That depends what people would ask of me.

text; private.

[noirant]

The courts will ask favours, small and grand; perhaps the greatest of these is that you keep hold of the shard of gem that they claim sticks lodged in your being. Terribly gaudy for your innards, I can't think it does wonders for the digestion.

I'd ask a quiet tongue and an attempt at frank discourse. Others may ask your friendship, or riches, or just the pleasure of a smile. But you know that already, and whatever hollow advice I repeat matters little.

What would you ask of yourself? What are you willing to give to it?

Hypotheticals. They're like rats -- or actors -- completely useless, breeding everywhere, and impossible to keep out. Drop me a line if you'd ever care to chat, Mademoiselle. Until then, I wish you the best of discernment.